


Chores Together

by WaldosAkimbo



Series: Quick and Dirty Good Omens Crack or Drabbles [3]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Cleaning, Cock Cage, Crowley Has Two Penises (Good Omens), Gag, Hemipenes, M/M, Vibrator, spreader bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:35:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24867694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaldosAkimbo/pseuds/WaldosAkimbo
Summary: Just a little time spent together cleaning up the shop.And one of them is naked.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Quick and Dirty Good Omens Crack or Drabbles [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1789003
Comments: 9
Kudos: 96
Collections: The Not-Very-Nice and Anatomically-Inaccurate Prophecies of OLHTS





	Chores Together

“Up a little higher.”

Crowley nearly whipped his head back, his muscles aching in a way they didn’t have a right to ache. He would say something. _Should_ say something. But he was a _little_ preoccupied, nudging the corner of the painting up by scooping his chin first when he felt that lick of electric vibrancy start up again and made him jolt.

“ _Care_ ful. It’s an antique.”

“Yunngh.”

“Sorry?”

The vibrations stopped and Crowley smashed his cheek into the wall. Then lifted and thunked his forehead once. Twice. _Ow_.

“Careful, my dear.” It was sweet. That Aziraphale cared about him. That he— “You don’t want to break your prop, do you?”

Crowley grumbled again and suddenly the angel was close. Much closer. Fingers dragging up naked ribs, thumbs working across the boney spine until he gripped a handful of the back of Crowley’s neck.

“How’s the jaw?” he whispered, his words devilish licks across the shell of his ear, brushing over the straps there that held his mouth open. That, or the ball between his teeth. The feather duster protruding absurdly between the fastener tight across his lips.

And even though he teased, it was a serious question that deserved a serious answer. Crowley closed his eyes and leaned back into Aziraphale’s touch. He sighed softly through his nose, right up until he hiccupped and tensed as Aziraphale took his free hand and reached down between Crowley’s legs, thumbing across the head of the vibrator protruding out and further to the metal rings currently keeping Crowley’s efforts locked together. Bit of a tight fit, really, when you went around with two of them, but that was his choice in the beginning and Aziraphale’s modifications to the thing were adequate.

“Mm? Crowley. How,” Aziraphale said again and put his hands on the clasps on the back of Crowley’s head. “Is. The—”

Crowley whined and tilted his head aside, the feather duster brushing the wall uselessly, one of them bending just enough to tickle his arm.

“It’s alright?”

Crowley nodded.

“Still want to go?”

He nodded again.

“Then up a little higher, please.”

One would think hands were of better use to lift, but those were not currently in a state that one would say was…convenient? Namely they were split away from his shoulders by the spreader bar, which he was using to hold up said frame as they organized a little corner of the shop together. Said shop was open, strangely enough, but somehow nobody had entered. Not like someone was wasting their ethereal talents keeping the doors closed when they could just _turn the sign around._ Oh no! Must have the option there. Of being interrupted. It was a layer to their play that had been discussed in horribly benign detail hours prior and now look at them. One naked as sin with his bollocks in a vice and a vibrating plug up his arse, the other smug as a damn bug and getting a good cleaning out of it.

With some effort—and a particular strain against the cage _by_ his efforts—Crowley had the painting up high enough. Aziraphale, with hammer and nail in hand, stepped back to appraise the spot.

“Perfect,” he purred slowly. He was doing something funny with this voice, wasn’t he? Because it sounded just the way fingers walked up the abdomen or the way lips pressed to hot feverish skin, mumbling across hip bones and teasing his cocks.

“Mmnjmm.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” Aziraphale stepped up, hand on the small of Crowley’s back, and held the painting up with a pinch by his index and thumb. Same as he did, there was that switch again and the vibrator turned up to its highest setting. Crowley bucked into wall and went down like a lead balloon, his knees crashing to the floor, then the rest of him following best it could with a feather duster protruding from his mouth and spreader bar doing what they do so well.

While he writhed, panting, flushed red as a tomato, Aziraphale hummed and shifted the painting out of the way, his finger stuck to the wall. Then replaced it with a nail and gave it a few good taps with the little hammer, all while Crowley writhed. It was just when there was a groan of metal, of course when Aziraphale was hanging the frame itself, did he set the hammer down and kneeled next to Crowley, pinning him gently to the floor. He turned Crowley’s head towards him, waited for him to breathe in and out and in and out in frantic gasps, and open his eyes again.

“You’re almost there,” he said softly, brushing back Crowley’s hair. He leaned down to press a cool kiss to that damp forehead when the little timer used for egg boils went off on the bureau nearby. Aziraphale’s eyes crinkled in delight, his nose twitching, and he scooched on back to spread Crowley’s legs. He raised his hand and Crowley cried out through the gag. With a snap of Aziraphale’s fingers, the cage disappeared, Crowley springing forth and slapping his stomach once, twice, with a wet little _pap_. There was already a decent spurt across his abdomen, so Aziraphale grabbed the bottom cock and pumped him, needing just the gentlest touch to get Crowley off, that lithe body bucking hard off the Persian rug.

When he was flat out again, the vibrator turned off _by_ Aziraphale’s hands instead of a simple miracle this time, Aziraphale crawled forward and started to loosen the straps of that ridiculous gag. Crowley, sweaty and blissful, lolled his head towards Aziraphale’s knee, mumbling something. Needed to get that gag off first, which he did, and was set aside on the table to be washed and put away for later.

“What was that?” Aziraphale whispered sweetly, rubbing the red lines along Crowley’s cheek.

“You said,” Crowley answered, still curiously out of breath, beautifully boneless as a heap on the floor, which Aziraphale would soon be spooning and carrying off to bed for round two.

“I said what?”

“You said,” he repeated and needed another moment to swallow. Aziraphale leaned closer to hear. “No. Miracles.”

“Mm. Just for the cleaning,” he said and touched his finger to Crowley’s nose. Then looked down. “Think it’s best to do that manually, you know. Make sure you get it all tidy, else you’ll know the spots still there.” He was shifting, had a hand pinned to Crowley’s hip so he wouldn’t squirm. “Filthy. Mustn’t let you sully our clean office.”

“What?”

Crowley lifted his head in time to see Aziraphale flatten his tongue to Crowley’s stomach and lick a long, greedy stripe of spend off, following the splatter down towards his flagged cocks, which twitched eagerly at the prospect of what’s to come.


End file.
